


The Accident

by shoshanaisabelle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Accidental Stimulation, Accidents, First Time, Frottage, Grinding, Horny Teenagers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-04 09:14:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14017056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoshanaisabelle/pseuds/shoshanaisabelle
Summary: All Scorpius wants is to do his homework in peace. Unfortunately, Albus has other ideas.





	1. The Accident

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a surprise for the wonderful Manon to read on her work trip. There may or may not be a sequel.

_2B. How does Olena the Odd, by her choice and position of runes, give emphasis to the seer’s interpretation?_

Scorpius strokes his chin with the feather of his quill, staring at the question in front of him. He gazes at his translation, still wet on the parchment from question 2A, and tries to infer the meaning of runes carved centuries ago.

He pauses for a moment and reaches for his bottle of ink, which is perched precariously on the bedside table. The slight movement reminds Scorpius that his back is starting to hurt. He doesn’t know how long he’s been lying on his bed doing homework – a habit leftover from years of being bullied anywhere else in Hogwarts – but he presumes a while. If his mind wasn’t somewhere in Ancient Romania pondering Olena the Odd’s thoughts on a long-lost prophecy, the long absence of his best friend might have concerned him.

As soon as Scorpius puts quill to parchment again, the door to the dormitory swings open. There’s a loud bang as the door makes contact with the battered corner of Elias Bebington’s four-poster bed. Albus smirks at it as though the bedpost has personally done him grievous harm.

He spots Scorpius and the sour expression on his face brightens. “I should have guessed,” he says, grinning, “you missed lunch again, by the way.”

“Ah,” says Scorpius, who belatedly realises his stomach is growling.

Albus dumps his school bag at the side of his bed before pulling from it a paper bag. He throws it at Scorpius and the impact knocks Scorpius’s writing hand to create an unsightly scribble on the parchment. Scorpius sighs. It’s hard to work when Albus is around, for many reasons.

“Thank you,” says Scorpius, putting down his quill and reaching for the bag. He knows what’s inside before he opens it. It’s a toasted cheese sandwich, still hot from the grill, complete with that marmalade pickle that Albus knows Scorpius really likes. This set up has become somewhat a routine.

“Elgin kept us half an hour late – again – and I nearly missed lunch too,” says Albus, voice low. “And now I have a year’s worth of homework to do. Great.”

“You could start now,” says Scorpius between mouthfuls of grilled cheese.

The expression Albus makes suggests he’d sooner attempt Quidditch try-outs than do his homework earlier than the night before the deadline. He looks at Scorpius’s discarded parchment.

“You finished for the afternoon?” 

“Nearly,” lies Scorpius.

“You won’t do anything else until you finish now, will you?”

“No,” says Scorpius. He finishes his sandwich and brushes the crumbs off his bed, observing Albus’s inner-battle and trying to keep his face from betraying how amused he is.

“All right,” says Albus, with a deep sigh that suggests he has made a deeply unpleasant sacrifice, “I suppose it can’t hurt to start now. Until you finish. And then we’ll go and investigate that weird portrait on the seventh floor?”

“I really don’t think there’s a secret passageway behind-“

“I know there is,” interrupts Albus.

Scorpius can’t stop himself smiling as he pretends to shake his head in dismay. 

“Fine,” he says, and Albus beams.

“Great,” says Albus. He pulls out several large books, parchment and – Scorpius notes with envy – a sugar quill. Scorpius turns back to focus on his own work, very aware that Albus is in the next bed mirroring his position.

Olena the Odd… did her reference to the unlikely position of the Dog Star imply any leaning towards the words of the late seer? That… doesn’t make any sense. Scorpius scratches his head and stares again at the answer to question 2A. Did he make a mistranslation somewhere?

He spots the error a few minutes later. The rune that looks like a horse but could be a unicorn or – he squints – maybe a centaur? He reaches for Spellman’s Syllabary, still open from the last question, and tries to identify the correct image.

It’s not the horse – or the unicorn – or the centaur. This is puzzling. He’s about to ask Albus what he thinks the strange squiggle of a creature might be when he is distracted by the sudden drop of his mattress.

Scorpius blinks, then turns to Albus, who is settling down next to Scorpius and has even laid parchment and a couple of books out on the bed. “What are you-?”

“Move up,” says Albus.

Still confused by the situation, Scorpius obediently surrenders his space. Albus lies down beside him and begins to scratch his parchment with his sugar quill as though there is nothing strange about this interaction at all. As though they didn’t stop doing homework on the same bed at least three years ago. As though the press of the sides of their bodies isn’t uncomfortably hot and distracting.

They’re both way too big for this now, thinks Scorpius, when he tries to focus again on the horse-like creature. He can’t make space between the middle of them for fear of losing a solid writing board for his arm. If he moves any further to the side, he’ll fall off his own bed.

In his confusion, he closes Spellman’s Syllabary and immediately realises Albus’s motives. No sooner has he placed the book down than Albus strikes. In one fluid, well-practiced movement, he grabs the displaced book and moves it to his far hand, out of Scorpius’s reach.

Albus grins triumphantly. Scorpius makes to grab for the book, but he’s played this game before and he already knows who wins.

“Albus,” says Scorpius, “Give it to me.”

As expected, the words have no effect.

“Come on, it’s been hours,” says Albus, “you said you were nearly done.”

“I have an exam next week,” pleads Scorpius, making another failed attempt to swipe at the book.

“It’s only a mock,” counters Albus, “Taking a break will be good for you – have you even left this room since you got back from Ancient Runes?”

“You know I have a free period before and after lunch,” says Scorpius. “Where else would I go?”

“Lunch, library, common room…” Albus pauses, “Quidditch practice. I don’t know. Does it matter? Let’s go poke that portrait Rose was talking about.”

“No,” says Scorpius, surprised by the firmness in his voice. “Give the book back, I have homework.”

Scorpius lunges for the book. Albus jerks away, holding it still out of reach.

The ensuing squabble is quite unlike anything Scorpius has ever experienced before. They are way too big for the book-stealing game, which Albus invented in their first year. Somehow, Scorpius doesn’t remember quite as many limbs or nearly as much discomfort from rolling around with his best friend. He doesn’t remember his breath catching and his heart pounding and the intense heat of snatches of exposed skin on skin. He doesn’t remember the moment the laughter dies and all he can see is the yearning expression in Albus’s eyes.

For a moment, they simply stare at each other. Scorpius has the book, maybe, somewhere, he thinks. The effort of finally seizing it means Albus has taken the upper hand and is on top of him.

Scorpius has no time to think about how he feels about the situation when he realises in a moment of utter horror that he is really, really, really hard. And Albus, judging from his positioning, can almost certainly feel it.

He feels his face burning in humiliation as his brain struggles desperately for something to say – an explanation or an apology – something. Albus doesn’t say anything. The milliseconds pass like days.

Words. Any words will do. Will Scorpius even be able to hear himself talk over the sound of his own rapid heartbeat, almost deafening in his ears? Is it even possible to speak when one’s breathing is so impaired? 

Scorpius is just about to open his mouth to say – anything – when Albus does something unfathomable. He shifts very slightly, the gentlest press of his body against Scorpius. The touch is tentative – almost asking a question.

With a surge of adrenaline that feels like being suddenly struck by a powerful spell, Scorpius realises that he is not the only one painfully hard. He stares at Albus, mouth open and making strange strangled noises, when Albus does it again. 

Something inside Scorpius snaps. He wraps his arms around Albus and pulls him closer. Their bodies meet again – closer together than ever before. He feels his hips jolt upward, meeting Albus’s groin with his. It feels like every inch of his body is on fire.

Albus responds enthusiastically, rubbing himself harder against Scorpius. Scorpius groans at the sudden pressure, but it’s not enough.

The sensible part of his brain has been silenced by the magical sensation throughout his body. The part of his body that wants more and more and right now. Scorpius finds himself rolling Albus over so now he’s the one with the power to dictate just how close they are together.

He looks down at Albus, whose face is flushed pink. His bottom lip is quivering and the pupils of his eyes are so blown Scorpius can hardly see the green in them. Scorpius can tell Albus has no objections whatsoever to the change in position. In fact, his hands are suddenly on Scorpius’s rear, pulling him in still closer so there’s barely enough room for the sweaty, frantic rubbing that they have both been reduced to.

They’re so close together, it’s almost painful. It’s still not close enough. Scorpius lowers himself further and immediately Albus’s face is buried in his neck, hot breath ghosting against his skin and sending a shiver down his spine.

Every part of Scorpius’s body is heat and pleasure and urgency, focused on the person beneath him, pushing their groins as close together as feasibly possible and then further.

It can only last a few minutes. Scorpius feels Albus’s body shudder beneath him and hears the muffled cry against his neck as though from a distance. The sound makes the hairs on Scorpius’s neck stand up and then his body is shuddering too just a few seconds later. He is not aware of the unintelligible noises he is making, only that he’s grinding down on Albus as hard as possible as his cock pulses and the overwhelming sensation of relief overtakes his body and mind.

Scorpius collapses on top of Albus and rolls off him in sheer bliss, breathing ragged and heavy. His heart is pounding in his chest like it will never recover. He doesn’t want it to recover. He wants to stay here, basking in this wonderful feeling, forever.

Minutes pass, and slowly the sensation of pure wonder begins to ebb away. The cool dormitory air dries Scorpius’s sweat. His heart stops racing. His pants start to feel very uncomfortable.

More worrying than any of that though is the slow awakening of Scorpius’s brain, and the very, very terrible anxiety that lurks in the pit of his stomach. What… was that? How did that happen? What did he just do to Albus? They’ve never done… that before. Scorpius has never done that with anybody before. Are they going to talk about it now? What happens next?

He reaches out for Albus but his hand only finds the warm space where his best friend was just lying. He opens his eyes. Albus is getting up and fiddling with his clothes, which are completely askew. Scorpius can barely look at him. He has no idea how he’s supposed to formulate sentences now, but his cheeks are burning again – in the uncomfortable, painful way he’s much more familiar with – and he knows he has to say something.

Before he can say anything, however, Albus speaks.

“I should – er – go to class,” says Albus. “I’ll see you later?”

The words make absolutely no sense to Scorpius, though he can’t bring himself to meet his best friend’s eyes.

Albus is smiling normally, like nothing has just happened between them. Like all they did that afternoon together was homework and Albus is now saying goodbye for his fourth period like he usually does. Scorpius’s indisposed brain tries to make sense of it and fails.

“See you later,” says Scorpius, completely befuddled.

Albus picks up his school bag, which Scorpius notices now has a towel inside it, and leaves the dormitory – maybe a little faster than he usually would, maybe not. Maybe Scorpius is imagining things. Maybe Scorpius imagined all of it.

Scorpius stares at the door after Albus leaves for a very long time. Finally, Scorpius groans and pulls his pillow over his face, wishing his bed would swallow him whole.

He doesn't finish his Ancient Runes homework.


	2. The Last Twenty-Four Hours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Easter!

What follows next is the weirdest twenty-four hours of Scorpius’s life.

He spends the first hour after it happens lying in bed, contemplating all the possible repercussions of the thing he did. That’s if it happened at all, which Scorpius is still unsure about. He can’t think of any other explanation for the stickiness in his pants, however, and finally heads for a shower when he’s certain Albus must be finished. He doesn’t complete his Ancient Runes homework. It’s only a mock, after all.

He spends the next few hours looking for Albus. He tries class, he tries dinner and he tries the common room. He even looks on the Quidditch pitch after remembering that time Albus told him he would always hide from his family in the place they’d least expect to find him. He’s not successful. Apparently, Albus is better at this than he is.

None of this does Scorpius’s anxiety any good. By the time he goes to sleep that night – hours after curfew, after unsuccessfully lying awake waiting for Albus – he’s convinced he has made a horrible mistake and his best friend probably hates him. Maybe he’s even moved dorms and has requested to be separated in all their classes together. Maybe it’ll be like the first time they used the time-turner, except Scorpius has no idea how to make it better.

He settles into an uneasy sleep, plagued by dreams in which Harry Potter barges into his dormitory to yell at Scorpius for defiling his son. When he awakes, the first thing he sees are bright green eyes. Harry Potter’s eyes.

In a moment of sleep-addled confusion, Scorpius squeaks and punches Albus in the gut.

“Ouch!” says Albus.

Scorpius stares at him, willing his brain to catch up with what is happening. It’s daytime – apparently – and a loud snoring issuing from the bed opposite Scorpius signals they are not alone.

“I was worried you’d died or something,” says Albus when Scorpius continues to stare at him, “I’ve never seen you sleep ‘til noon before.”

Scorpius jumps up at the words, suddenly alert. He glances at his watch. He must be really late for –

“It’s a Saturday,” yawns Albus. He stretches his arms out and Scorpius wonders how long he has been awake.

“I couldn’t find you last night,” says Scorpius. “Where did you go?”

Scorpius thinks he sees Albus stiffen, but then he relaxes and Scorpius is sure he imagined it. 

“Detention,” says Albus, “I – er – forgot to do Elgin’s stupid coursework.”

“Oh,” says Scorpius. He eyes the bed of their sleeping companion, wondering whether he dares initiate the conversation about what happened yesterday. He can’t just pretend nothing happened – even if Albus can. Still, he hesitates. He doesn’t want Bebington to hear anything that could feed the gossip mill at Hogwarts for the rest of his schooldays.

The decision is taken out of his hands when Albus jumps up. 

“Lunch,” he says, in response to Scorpius’s raised eyebrow. “Meet you up there?”

He doesn’t give Scorpius time to respond before he is out of the dormitory. Scorpius has a bad feeling Albus knew exactly what he wanted to discuss.

Lunch passes without an opportunity to talk alone to Albus, almost as though it was planned that way. When Scorpius questions Albus on his sudden desire to join Rose at the Gryffindor table, Albus shrugs and says he’s in a good mood.

After lunch, Albus does something even more unexpected. He suggests spending Saturday afternoon in the library doing “that stupid essay Elgin says I still have to do”. Scorpius agrees, stunned, and they sit down for approximately thirty seconds before Albus remembers he left his textbook in the dormitory. He doubles back, assuring Scorpius he need not follow – and Scorpius decides to follow anyway.

“Ah,” says Albus, when he comes face to face with Scorpius in their dormitory doorway, _Quintessence: A Quest_ in his left hand. “Did you forget something too…?”

Scorpius examines their surroundings. They’re alone again. He feels a chill down his spine and tries to ignore the vivid memories of what happened almost twenty-four hours ago in this very same room. The memories fill him with an uncomfortable heat that makes looking at Albus extremely difficult. The gut feeling that something very bad has happened intensifies.

Now that he has Albus alone, he has absolutely no idea what to say.

“So…” he starts, before cringing at his own indecisiveness. He wishes he’d planned this properly. It feels like his face is on fire. “Um… yesterday.”

Albus stiffens, and he hovers in the doorway for a moment – possibly wondering if he can still escape. “What about it?”

“When we – er – after you stole my book.”

“I gave it back,” says Albus quickly, “Look, it’s right there on your pillow.”

Scorpius frowns. “That’s not where I left – wait, no, that’s not important. I just wanted to say-“

He doesn’t know what he wanted to say, but he’s cut off anyway by Albus, who closes the dormitory door with an air of defeat.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” he says. He leaves the doorway to sit on his own bed, kicking Bebington’s on the way. “It won’t happen again.”

He expected Albus to make an escape, change the subject or find some other manner of diversion. Nothing about Albus’s response – and the curled up, defeated position he takes on his bed – make any sense to Scorpius.

“Why are you sorry?” asks Scorpius, dropping down to sit on his own bed, facing Albus. His cheeks have stopped burning. His friend genuinely seems like he is in pain, and it’s enough to put thoughts of inappropriate trouser action out of Scorpius’s mind. Is Albus all right?

Albus blinks. Green eyes meet grey for the briefest of moments. The memory of those same green eyes blown with desire suddenly strikes Scorpius's traitorous brain. He looks away again.

“I started it,” says Albus slowly. He stares at his hands as though they are fascinating to him. “I knew you didn’t – I knew you weren’t – like that. I’m sorry.”

Albus keeps talking, but the words don’t make sense to Scorpius, who is distracted by the way Albus’s bottom lip is quivering.

“Hold on,” he says, “I’m not like what?”

“Me,” says Albus. He catches Scorpius's eye again, making Scorpius's neck feel instantly hot. “Gay.”

“Oh,” says Scorpius, surprised. This was not where he envisaged this conversation going and to be honest, he’s not really prepared for it. He scrambles to find words, to deal with his own surprise and support his best friend as best he can. “I didn’t know that,” he says finally, “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Albus scowls. “There is when I jump on my best friend. I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying you’re sorry,” says Scorpius, so forcefully that Albus jumps and Scorpius is alarmed to see he looks hurt by the reaction. “I didn’t mean it like – I mean, Albus, I thought I started it.” 

Scorpius pauses, unsure of what else to say. He goes with the truth. “I liked it.”

Albus’s eyes are wide and his face is very pale. “You liked – are you…?”

It’s been playing on Scorpius's mind non-stop since the day before, and in all honesty, he isn’t sure. His main priority has been making sure that everything is normal between him and Albus and trying to fix it if it isn’t.

“I don’t know,” says Scorpius, realising with a jolt that it’s true. “I haven’t really thought about it before – maybe.”

Albus looks completely bewildered by that. “Oh, okay,” he says, ruffling through his hair and making it even wilder. 

There’s another pause, while Scorpius desperately tries to recall every crush he’s ever had. He hears Albus as though from a distance. “So, we’re cool? I won’t – er – do that again and we can just forget it ever happened. The last thing I want is to lose you.”

The sincerity in his voice startles Scorpius from his thoughts, realising in a moment of clarity something he should have known for a long time.

“Albus, do you like me… as more than a friend?”

Scorpius regrets not asking the question more tactfully almost the moment the words are out of his mouth. He watches Albus recoil and withdraw back into the cross-legged position as though he is trying to make himself as small as physically possible. Scorpius has seen him do this once before, after a heated argument with his father.

The silence is almost tangible. It’s almost as though Scorpius can feel this enormous divide widening between them. He looks at Albus, curled almost into a ball and stubbornly examining his foot, and he knows. He doesn’t need Albus to say it. He just needs to find a way to make Albus know it’s okay.

“Oh,” says Scorpius.

For one horrible moment, Scorpius thinks Albus is going to cry. What happens is worse. His face contorts from a grimace to a scowl and he starts to get up, without once looking at Scorpius.

Scorpius feels terrible.

“No, don’t go – I don’t mind,” squeaks Scorpius, whose brain is still a long way off finding the right expression to describe the churning sensation in his chest that he’s been feeling for almost twenty-four hours now. “It’s just a lot to… process. I think – I think I like you too.”

The quiet confession makes Albus stop. Something crashes to the ground, like Albus has dropped it. Scorpius doesn’t care, and apparently neither does Albus – because Albus is finally, finally looking at him.

“You what?” he says, his voice barely louder than a whisper. 

Paradoxically, the quiet disbelief in Albus’s voice makes Scorpius feel surer. It makes Scorpius feel less confused about what everything means.

“I didn’t realise before… yesterday,” Scorpius pauses, “but I think it’s been there a while.”

Albus just stares at him. Scorpius only notices his best friend is shaking when Albus speaks and his voice quivers. “What are you saying?”

Scorpius blinks. He looks at Albus. He doesn’t know how he’s going to say it – everything now is so confusing and new – but he needs Albus to understand. If he’s going to do that, he has to be honest about something he hasn’t even admitted to himself.

“I think I have feelings for you too,” says Scorpius, surprised by how easily the words leave his mouth when normally he stammers and jokes, “and that thing we did yesterday? That was amazing.”

Albus looks like he’s been hit by a bludger.

He drops back down onto his bed. He pats the covers, as though surprised to suddenly find them beneath him. 

“That was amazing for me too,” says Albus.

If none of this feels real for Albus, then Scorpius understands exactly how that feels. He tentatively tries to smile at his friend. Albus catches his eye and smiles back and suddenly it’s impossible not to smile and then, completely uninvited, the giggles come.

Scorpius can feel his face burning as he moves up and Albus joins him on his bed, sitting beside him again in a way that never used to be so uncomfortable. Albus elbows him. Scorpius elbows back and Albus makes a little choking noise. Scorpius briefly wonders if he’s ticklish.

“Have you ever done… that… before?” asks Scorpius, moving himself further away from Albus so their legs are still touching but he’s out of elbowing distance.

“Of course not!” says Albus, unabashed. “Who do you think I would’ve… I haven’t even told anyone I’m… I would’ve told you. I wanted to tell you, but I – er – liked you.”

Scorpius thinks it’s cute that despite everything that happened yesterday, Albus is still blushing over a confession of attraction.

“It’s okay,” he replies, “I haven’t done that before either.”

Albus snorts. “I know that.”

“Oi!”

Scorpius lunges forward, aiming for the very same spot below Albus’s ribs that made him react so strangely before.

“What – no!” 

Albus tries to bat him away, but Scorpius’s inference was correct. He is very ticklish in that small space where the waist dips in between his bottom rib and hip. Albus shrieks and tries to throw him off, and he’s borderline successful until Scorpius rolls straight off the bed and Albus lands on top of him.

They both stop laughing. It’s almost the exact same position they found themselves in the day before, when the thing happened. Scorpius can feel the heat rising in all the same places again. He stares at Albus, who looks just as unsure as Scorpius feels.

Albus rolls off him. His absence on top of Scorpius’s body is both disappointing and a huge relief. He sits upright with his back against Scorpius’s bed, still on the floor, and Scorpius scoots to sit next to him.

“So um…” begins Albus, and Scorpius thinks he can hear the blushing in his best friend’s voice, “is this a thing you want to… keep doing?”

The hairs on the back of Scorpius’s neck stand up. He reaches for the back of his neck. It’s covered in sweat. He swallows. “You mean we should do it again?”

“Yeah,” says Albus. “I mean – if you want.”

Albus’s side feels very hot pressed against him, and Scorpius is very glad they’re not looking at each other. His body is telling him one thing, but his brain – the part of his body he momentarily lost access to the day before – is telling him something different. Scorpius knows that just like before, he has to be honest.

“I want to,” he says, “but maybe we should start smaller. I’ve never even… and I did that.”

“Oh!” says Albus, as though that thought has never occurred to him. He has the decency to look mildly embarrassed. “Um, do you want me to-?”

Scorpius cuts him off. “Yes.”

With the same blazing look in his eyes that Scorpius associates with some kind of reckless adventure, Albus presses his mouth against Scorpius’s. His lips are soft and warm. Scorpius’s chest purrs and his face burns and it’s almost as though all the awkwardness of the last twenty-four hour melts away.

It isn’t incredibly weird to be kissing his best friend. It feels like home. It feels like he doesn’t know why they haven’t been doing this the entire time.

When they break apart, Scorpius grins. “Yeah,” he says, stroking his chin and imitating an examiner, “I think I like it.”

Albus laughs, and so does Scorpius. It’s the same kind of happy, flowing laughter they often share, alone in their own world. Everything has changed and yet nothing has changed in a single twenty-four hour period.

“This is too weird,” grins Albus, when their noses bump together and their mouths get close enough to feel each other’s breathing again. “I can’t believe I’m doing this with – I can’t believe we’re even talking about it.”

“You do want to?” asks Scorpius, but even as he asks it Albus is looking at him with that same longing impression that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“Of course I do,” says Albus. He closes the distance between them again and Scorpius’s nerves settle.

Scorpius isn’t sure what’s next for them. He’s not sure how he feels about Albus, only that whatever it is threatens to consume him in its intensity. That’s enough to tell Scorpius that whatever it is should be pursued. He doesn’t want to think about how their lives might change – or might not change. That’s a discussion for another day. Right now he has Albus, and that’s enough.


End file.
